


I'm Hers and She is Mine

by HomebodyNobody



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, High School AU, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Teacher AU, a lot of awkward flirting, because that's what I do best, ish, the OCs are just students don't freak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomebodyNobody/pseuds/HomebodyNobody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t believe we’ve met...” he said, taking in her appearance. She was dressed in dark-wash jeans and a loose, cotton, red, button-up, both speckled with white paint. Blond and wavy, her hair did its best to escape the professional updo she’d put it in, and tendrils stuck out from her temples and fell down around her shoulders. </p><p>“Clarke,” she finished, shaking his hand firmly. “Well, Miss Griffin.”</p><p>“Bellamy,” he replied, “Uh -- Mr. Blake.” </p><p>******</p><p>Bellamy and Clarke run into each other in the first few weeks of the school year, and, as it turns out, it's not just the students who act like dumb teenagers. Welcome to the Phoenix High rumor mill, and the fast-lane, high-stakes life of two suburban high school teachers with ridiculous crushes on each other.</p><p>(Tags/Characters will be added as they appear)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I swear I thought I dreamed her

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't done yet, but it's been sitting in my google docs for the better part of six months, and it's time the first chapter sees the light. Mostly beta'ed -- any typos/misspellings/grammar errors definitely still mine. First slow-burn/long-fic -- be gracious. There's not a particular playlist for this, but I did listen to a lot of Hozier and Halsey while I was writing it if you want a general idea. Okay, okay I'm rambling. Go forth, adventure! (Title from Cherry Wine by Hozier)

“Mr. Blake?” Kellen’s obnoxious voice pierced the stuffy air of the classroom, and Bellamy’s whiteboard pen stopped mid-sentence. Most days, he loved his job teaching the future generations of America, but his sixth period US History class kind of made him want to wring their necks, instead.

 

“Yes, Mister Rockford?” He replied without turning around. Kellen Rockford, the impossibly skinny flagpole of a first-string forward, was possibly his least favorite student in all of his classes. He was cocky and self-assured, the type of rules-don’t-apply to me teenage boy that Bellamy used to act like in high school.

 

“Is this, like, gonna be on the test?” Kellen asked.

 

Bellamy had to stop himself from physically cringing as he turned toward his class. “Yes, Kellen,” he said, forced patience in his voice, “this will be on the test. As will all the other information you learn during this unit. Hence the name ‘unit test.’” A couple of giggles erupted from two girls in the front row, and Kellen’s face turned the color of his red basketball shorts.

 

“But, like, you told us that the Bill of Rights was gonna be on the last test and it wasn’t. So, like, I just figured I’d ask.”  Kellen crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow challengingly. A murmur of confusion rippled through half of the class.

 

“I don’t know which test you were taking, Kellen,” Gabby piped up from the back of the room, “But I’d consider an essay question on the foundations of the Constitution testing us on the Bill of Rights, wouldn’t you?” Kellen sputtered for a second, glaring at her, his face steadily turning the color of an overripe plum. Gabby smiled and accepted a high five from the boy next to her.

 

Bellamy resisted laughing with the rest of his students and kept up appearances by glaring at Gabby over the tops of his glasses. “That’s quite enough of that, Miss Rose.” She smiled and hid a snicker behind her hand, ignoring the teasing pokes from her friends. Kellen opened his mouth to snark back, but the loud drone of the bell cut him off, and Bellamy raised his voice to be heard over the clamor of students packing up. “Remember guys, I want to see the notes on chapter four on Monday, and your essay on the demographics of loyalists and patriots is due next Wednesday, so be thinking about that over the next few days. Have a great weekend!” He collapsed into his desk chair as his students left the room, pushing his glasses up on his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose. _Friday_ , the voice in the back of his head whispered. It’s _Friday_.

 

“Mr. Blake?” the timid voice interrupted his celebratory chain of thought, and he reluctantly looked up. Gabby stood in front of his desk, notebook held out in offering. “I just wanted to show you my chapter four notes now. I'm gonna be gone on Monday, so I did them last night.”

 

Bellamy took the notebook. “Thanks, Gabby.”

 

She chuckled as he flipped through the pages, scanning for the section headings. “I know, I know,” she said, “I’m the reason you continue teaching this class.”

 

He checked her off on his score sheet and handed back her notebook. “Some days,” he said, and she smiled and turned to leave.

 

“Thanks, Mr. Blake! See you next week!”

 

“Wait,” he called after her, “you said you’re not going to be here Monday?” He asked, intending to give her the notes, or at least the lesson plan.

 

Gabby turned back and shook her head, adjusting her books in her arms. “No. The art field trip is Monday. Miss Griffin’s taking the AP Studio class.”

 

An odd feeling rose in his chest at the mention of the name. “You like it so far?” he asked, trying to be less obvious about the fact he didn’t care about the class at all, and instead was trying to find a way to ask Gabby about the beautiful new art teacher he had yet to meet. They’d hired a slew of new teachers all at once, very last-minute, and Bellamy had seen her in the halls, but didn’t even know her first name.

 

“What, AP Studio?” she shrugged. “It’s pretty cool. We haven’t done much yet, but Miss Griffin is pretty fun.”

 

Bellamy leapt at his chance. “Yeah? How so?”

 

“I dunno, she’s young, I guess.” Gabby rolled her eyes. “Still believes in the magic of learning, like you.” Her eyes lit up with a mischievous, somewhat threatening sparkle as she went on. “Haven’t you guys met?” Bellamy shook his head distractedly. “You should go talk to her," she continued, "you’d probably get along really well. She always gets majorly excited about when she’s teaching us, starts talking really fast and practically jumps up and down.” Gabby laughed a little. “Just like you,” she finished, raising an eyebrow. Bellamy didn’t say anything in return, just mulled over his student’s observations with a small hum. “Anyway, I gotta catch my bus. Have a good weekend, Mr. Blake!” She left with a smile.

 

“Yeah, you too,” he said distractedly, staring off into space. Griffin. He rolled her last name around in his mind, taking what Gabby said into consideration. The young part, he knew, but some young teachers were uppity know-it-alls, or, even worse, already jaded and despairing at the current state of the American education system. Given what Gabby had told him, she was more like him -- hopeful. He smiled slightly at the idea.

 

Chiming loudly, his phone pulled him from his thoughts.

 

Octavia Blake now

_**Big brother! ur still coming to dinner tonight?** _

 

That was his little sister -- forgoing all pleasantries to cut to what she really wanted.

 

Me now

_Yeah, I’m coming to dinner._

 

She responded with frightening speed.

 

Octavia Blake now

_**new roommate’s been here like a month,u still haven’t met her.** _

 

That much was true. After the disaster that had been the control-freak Indra, Octavia had set out online for a new roommate, and gotten a response almost immediately from a twenty-something looking to move out to Washington, who’d mentioned something about starting a new chapter in her life. Bellamy had been busy with the start of school, and hadn’t been able to hear much about his sister’s new best friend -- Octavia wasn’t much of a phone person,  and her texts were always short and to the point, filled with a shorthand Bellamy never really understood. The only thing he knew about this new girl was the first letter of her name.

 

Me now

_Well, I’m meeting her tonight, aren’t I?_

 

Octavia Blake now

_**B here at 7.** _

 

Me now

_Seven, sharp. Got it._

 

Octavia Blake now

_**Bring cake. C likes chocolate.** _

 

Me now

_You like chocolate._

 

Octavia Blake now

_**Same difference.** _

 

Bellamy smiled and locked his phone, knowing anything else he said would be ignored once he insulted her eating habits. He opened next week’s lesson plan and looked it over, sighing. He’d been putting off planning out his material for the first half of the 19th century, mainly because it was his least favorite period in American history. Instead of the intellectual Enlightenment and spiritual Great Awakening, there was just slavery and slaughter and general awfulness on the behalf of the white male population. He hated teaching it just as much as his students hated learning it, but he was supposed to start it on Monday, so he cracked his knuckles and got to work.

 

Josh and Ben from third period were supposed to be coming in to make up a test, so he barely looked up when his door opened a few minutes later.

 

“Hey guys,” he said, finishing up his last notes. “Come up at get a scantron and then sit on opposite sides of the room, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

 

His eyes only left the screen when a decidedly non-adolescent, female voice responded. “I didn’t know there was a pop quiz today, Mr. Blake.”

 

Startled, Bellamy jerked back in his chair, not recognizing the woman standing in the middle of his classroom. “I’m sorry,”he stammered, “I thought you were my students -- I had a couple coming in for makeup testing, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize --”

 

She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a smile that went straight through his chest. “It’s fine. We get so wrapped up, right?”

 

He nodded gratefully and stood, stumbling around his desk to offer a handshake. “I don’t believe we’ve met...” he said, taking in her appearance. She was dressed in dark-wash jeans and a loose, cotton, red, button-up, both speckled with white paint. Blond and wavy, her hair did its best to escape the professional updo she’d put it in, and tendrils stuck out from her temples and fell down around her shoulders.

 

“Clarke,” she finished, shaking his hand firmly. “Well, Miss Griffin.”

 

“Bellamy,” he replied, “Uh -- Mr. Blake.”

 

Releasing his hand, she smiled again, and he felt it in his stomach. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blake,” she said.

 

“Have you?” he asked, and hated that the tone he took was the same one he used on girls in bars. According to his best friend, he was still somewhat of a notorious flirt, but Bellamy figured that’s because Miller had absolutely no game with either men or women.

 

“Oh, of course!” she said with mock seriousness,and then laughed quietly. Bellamy couldn’t help but smile in return at the sound. “Gabby, in particular, had quite a bit to say about you. She just stopped by my room, actually.”

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bellamy looked up at the ceiling, a wry expression on his face. “Of course she did,” he muttered. At Clarke’s questioning expression, he explained. “I think she might be meddling,” he said, trying to keep the creeping laughter out of his voice.

 

Clarke laughed aloud. “That’s Gabby, I guess. You know, she told me how she hated that a woman’s marital status is evident by her title, but every man is just ‘Mr.’ by default?”

 

“Yeah? And how did she follow that up?” Bellamy asked, as he stepped back around his desk and sat down with a lazy grin. He slid down into an extreme slouch, gesturing to a chair.

 

She took the invitation, and propped her sensible pumps up on the first row of desks. “Oh, that’s the best part,” she continued, dropping the files on the table. “She said the worst part about it --”

 

“Besides the patriarchy,” Bellamy jumped in, grinning around the pen cap between his teeth.

 

She let a small grin slide over her face as she cut her eyes at him. “besides the patriarchy --” she relented, “Was that she couldn’t tell if you were single or not.”

 

He laughed with his whole body, throwing his head back against the chair. “No doubt followed by a pointed eyebrow raise,” he said, remembering his exchange with the same student from earlier in the afternoon.

 

“But of course,” Clarke agreed, tracing her fingers over the title on the file closest to her. “Wouldn’t be meddling without it!” Biting her lip, she tilted her head and watched him laugh, a glimmer in her wide blue eyes.

 

“You know,” Bellamy said, tilting his head as well, his words reaching up to grab the challenge hanging in the air. “She may have been meddling, but at least she wasn’t wrong.”

 

“Wrong about what?” Clarke asked, not breaking eye contact.

 

“I’d say we do get along pretty well.” They smiled at each other, a challenge in Bellamy’s eyes, intrigue in Clarke’s.

 

She opened her mouth, but he never found out what she wanted to say, because the door opened, and two boys stumbled in, sniggering. Clarke shot to her feet, and Bellamy scrambled to sit up, the grins dropping from both their faces. “Hey, Mr. Blake.” Josh said, pushing his friend through the door. “We’re here to make up the test we missed?”

 

“Uh --” Bellamy stumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Uh, yeah, hang on I’ll uh -- I’ll get those for you.” Josh and Ben snickered and sat down in the third row, watching the two teachers move awkwardly around each other. Clarke turned to leave, went two steps, and then hurried back to pick up the files she’d left in the front row.

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Blake,” Clarke said, lingering in the doorway as Bellamy shuffled through the desk, his glasses pushed up into his curls.

  
He  stopped with his hands in two stacks of paper and stared at her for a second before saying anything. “Yeah, I’ll uh, see --” he cleared his throat. “I’ll see you around, Cl -- Miss Griffin.” The two students snickered to each other  as Clarke left the room with a pink face and Bellamy took more than a few seconds to recover his train of thought and continue what he was doing. He gave them each a glare as he dropped off their scantrons, but it didn’t stop them from sharing a conspiratorial look. Bellamy collapsed into his chair with a sigh. Apparently, he was a lot less smooth than he used to be. As his students settled in with their tests, he let his gaze linger on the open classroom door. Whatever happened next, his life was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.


	2. how do you recognize the dirty face of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy shows up at Octavia's apartment, and there's a bit of a surprise waiting for him. Hilarity ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "We Come Running" from Youngblood Hawke (bc I am trash, pure trash.) 
> 
> You stayed for chapter two and I appreciate that. This one is early cause I might not have access to wifi next Monday, and it's already written so why not.

Me now

_Okay don’t hate me but I’m gonna be late_

Octavia Blake now

_**u already r late** _

Me now

_you wanted cake!!_

Octavia Blake now

_**fair enough. come soon. C won’t shut up about this guy she met at work today he sounds so dumb, pls help** _

Bellamy showed up twenty minutes late with a three-layer chocolate fudge cake to buy forgiveness. Octavia swung open the door with a scowl that transformed the second she saw the bag in his hand. “Oh my god the cake is Marchetti's I totally forgive you,” she said in a rush, taking the bag from him and leading him into the apartment.

“I figured you would,” he muttered, walking in after her. Octavia’s apartment was nothing new, but he was scanning the small space for a new face that he would inevitably have to be friends with, if only so Octavia didn’t kill him. There was Miller, already sitting at the table, Monty and Jasper fooling around with the game system in the living room, and Raven sitting on the couch with her feet in Wick’s lap, telling the boys what they were doing wrong, and Clarke -- wait.

_Clarke_ was there? She seemed disengaged from the rest of the clamor in the apartment, sitting on the window seat with a glass of wine. Her long blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, hiding her face, and she’d changed out of her work clothes, relaxing in a huge gray sweater and black leggings.

He gaped at her, mind racing. She had to be the “C” his sister kept referencing in her cryptic text messages, but he tripped over himself trying to reconcile the discovery. He suddenly felt guilty for not talking to his sister more often, finding out about Clarke sooner. He dithered in the kitchen, debating between going to talk to her or the much more appealing option of simply bolting out the door. Before he could make his decision, Octavia stood up straight from putting the cake in the fridge and slapped him on the back. “So,” she said, mischief in her bright green eyes, “Ready to meet her?”

He started slightly and turned to glare at her. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me your roommate worked at my school?”

Her expression transformed into one of pure surprise.“Clarke works at Phoenix?” Octavia asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t _know_?” Bellamy imitated her tone and crossed his arms over his chest, the stance that scared everyone but Octavia.

“I knew she was an art teacher,” she replied defensively, “I didn’t know where!” She trailed off as her eyes went wide.“Oh my god, _you’re_ the history teacher she wouldn’t shut up about? No wonder she wouldn’t tell me your name!”

In the mixed confusion of emotions, a very, very tiny part of Bellamy’s heart jumped at her words. “She was talking about me?” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Immediate regret washed over him as a fox-like grin grew across his sister’s face. “Oh my god, do you like her?” she asked.

“What?” Bellamy sputtered, as equal parts of him shouted ‘no’ and ‘yes’ simultaneously. He’d only met her that morning, and he wasn’t that guy -- didn’t believe in fate or love at first sight or soulmates, but there was something in Clarke’s smile that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget. “What are you --”

“Holy shit, you totally like her!” She shoved her brother lightly. “I swear, I called this from the moment I met her, Oh my god --” Behind Octavia, Clarke swung her legs off the window seat and wandered toward the kitchen, smiling tensely at Wick, who greeted her cheerfully as she walked past.

“I don’t --” He tried to stop Octavia as Clarke wandered up behind his sister, but she chattered on, unaware. “Would you just --”

“Bellamy?” they both froze as Clarke entered the kitchen, confusion written all over her face. “You’re friends with Octavia?”

Octavia slowly turned around, an unreadable expression settling on her face. “Bellamy’s my brother,” she said after a painfully silent moment, throwing an arm over Clarke’s shoulders. Octavia watched, practically gleeful, as her brother and her roommate stared at one another, wide eyes daring the other to speak first.

Clarke opened her mouth and took a breath, but the only thing that came out was a small, confused, “Oh.”

The rest of their friends had since realized what was happening and sat riveted in their various positions around the apartment, expressions ranging from Raven’s stunned hilarity to Miller’s gentle bemusement. Bellamy finally felt the numerous pairs of eyes on him and let his defensive stance drop, waffling in the horrible quiet.

Eventually, Clarke regained her composure and extended a hand, a small smile and pretty blush adorning her face. “Well,” she said, “nice to meet you -- again, Mr. Blake.”

Relieved, Bellamy shook her hand. “Always a pleasure, Miss Griffin,” he said, smiling broadly. She smiled up at him in return, and he must have held onto her hand a little too long, must have let his eyes linger on her lips for the barest fraction of a second, because Octavia cleared her throat pointedly and Clarke’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“Anyway,” Octavia said, pulling her roommate away, towards the living room and the couch. “You’ve met Raven, and Wick, and they have some pretty crazy-ass stories…” both girls settled down on the floor, and Bellamy lost the trail of conversation as Raven’s laugh rang out across the room. He felt a little stunned, leaning back against the kitchen counter and picking a beer out of the ice tub next to him. Miller appeared at his elbow in his oddly silent way and offered him a bottle opener.

“So,” his best friend said, taking a sip of his beer, “We’re both hiding out in the kitchen and avoiding the people we’re really here to talk to.” Bellamy took a sip of his beer and nodded. “You know,” Miller continued, “some people might call that pathetic.”

“In my defense, I had no idea Clarke was gonna be here,” Bellamy retorted, and then went on at Miller’s incredulous scoff.  “I just met her today. She’s the new art teacher.” Miller only raised his eyebrows in response, and Bellamy scowled down at his feet. “You’re the one that’s pathetic, Mr. ‘I’ve liked the same guy since college.’”

“Boys are just as intimidating as girls,” Miller returned,his eyes trained on where the rest of the group was now setting up the bracket for Mario Kart. Raven and Wick argued loudly about their individual prowess on Rainbow Road, and Jasper rambled on about the probability of certain powerups in correlation with placement  in the race. Monty and Clarke sat together on the worn carpet, sharing exasperated smiles as Octavia very loudly pointed out the various advantages and disadvantages of certain tracks.

Bellamy chuckled and took a swig of his drink. “Yeah, because Monty is incredibly intimidating.” Miller glared at him disparagingly.

“And the small blonde chick is so much worse?” he shot back, receiving a similar glare in return. “I’m just saying,” Miller clapped Bellamy on the shoulder and pushed himself away from the counter. “You met this girl this morning. Who’s really the pathetic one here?”

Bellamy opened his mouth to respond, but Miller shrugged him off with a smile and sat down next to Monty, bumping their shoulders together and winking. Bellamy smiled at the sight of Monty’s flushed terrified face and shook his head, joining his friends in the living room when Octavia shouted his name.

“Bell! Your turn!”

As it turns out, he discovered he never wanted Clarke behind the wheel, not while he was in the car, because she was miserable, constantly falling off cliffs and swerving into obstacles, swearing prolifically at every mistake. When she ran into a goomba, she yelled ‘shit’ at an incredible volume and jerked her controller so far to the left she elbowed Bellamy in the ribs. He doubled over and swore at an equal decibel. (Octavia laughed for a solid minute before getting up to get her brother some ice.)

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Clarke asked later, when she walked him to the door. “I forgot to warn you guys about the, uh… violent tendencies. What a way to make a first impression, right?”

“Hey,” Bellamy replied, leaning back against the door, one hand resting on his sore side, "they say you never truly know a person until you play video games with them.” It was hard to rationalize the flirting -- he’d only met her that morning, after all, and they were colleagues, and she was his sister’s new roommate -- but she was beautiful, and funny, and he’d had a few beers. Besides, flirting was harmless.

Right?

“You’re so full of shit.” She laughed and stepped toward him with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes fought to stay on his, flicking over his chest and arms, settling on his lips and then flying up again, a soft flush steadily rising on her pale face.

“Some people call that charming,” he said, as his eyes trailed lazily over her face, catching on her lips before settling on her eyes again. Licking his lips, he reached out to touch her arm, registering the flicker of interest in her eyes, the twitch at the corner of her mouth. _Two_ , he thought, _can play at that game_.   

“I’m obviously not some people,” Clarke replied, relenting a small smile. She leaned into him ever so slightly, and his breath caught in his chest at the whiff of rose perfume.

He should’ve backed out, stood up straight and opened the door and gone home, but she tilted her head and let her smile grow across her face, her hair swinging down off her shoulder, and his next words almost felt like stepping off a ledge. “Oh, I would never make that mistake,” he said, curling his fingers around her elbow and pulling her closer. Clarke bit her lip, mischief flickering in her bright blue eyes as they fluttered over his lips, and Bellamy’s brow furrowed for the barest fraction of a second. Was she..? He let his eyes slide close, leaning into her, testing the waters. Their lips were a whisper away before her laugh rang out, echoing in the nearly-empty apartment. “What?” Bellamy asked, chuckling along nervously as she stepped out of his reach, fingers pressed against her mouth.

She shook her head, smiling broadly at him. “So full of shit.”

Bellamy just shrugged, trying to shake off the icy feeling of rejection before it showed on his face. Instead, he let his head drop against the door, brown eyes surveying Clarke with a lackadaisical smirk. “Can’t say you’re wrong,” he said as he pushed himself off the door and stepped closer, towering over her. Her eyes flickered to his lips, and he heard her breath catch slightly, her blue eyes suddenly wide. Did he know what he was doing? Not really. Was he going to regret this? probably. But shit, she was gorgeous, and funny, and witty, and a man could only do so much against blond curls and a blinding smile. His hand traveled down her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and he clasped her hand in his, leaning down to brush a kiss on her cheek. “See you Monday, Miss Griffin.”

As the door slammed shut behind Bellamy, Octavia sidled into the foyer behind Clarke, arms crossed over her chest, a towel dangling from one hand. “That was disgusting,” she said, despite the smirk on her face, which was practically identical to the one her brother wore mere moments before.

Clarke turned around with her hands tucked into her sleeves, a blush growing across her face, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “That was....” she smiled and ducked her chin. “unexpected,” she finished finally.

Octavia scoffed. “I can’t believe he just kissed your cheek,” she said, twirling the towel and snapping it Clarke’s legs. The other girl laughed and jumped back, the smile on her face shining brilliantly.

“It was cute!” she laughed, following her roommate back into the kitchen. Their friends had all left -- Bellamy had been the last, staying behind to help clean up, although he spent more time bickering with his sister than anything --  and the apartment felt oddly empty after all the voices crammed into the cozy space. Octavia scoffed again and rolled her eyes, opening the dishwasher to unload it, and Clarke settled down at the kitchen island on one of their stools, resting her chin on her crossed arms. Honestly, meeting Octavia’s friends had been something she was dreading, but the minute Jasper walked through their door with his big dopey smile, skinny arms outstretched and two ziplocs full of brownies in one hand (one labeled “trippin”, the other labeled “boring”), Clarke had smiled in return and felt a little part of her heart fly out of her chest and root itself in this place, with these people. Monty followed him through the door with a slightly apologetic smile and introduced himself in a much quieter manner. Raven and Wick showed up at their door a few minutes later and stood, nitpicking each other in the foyer for a good ten minutes before finally coming into the living room. Miller and Bellamy had arrived within minutes of each other, and spending the night surrounded by friends, even shouting, swearing, slightly high ones that she didn’t know very well -- it finally made this place feel like home, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Octavia leaned her elbows on the island and smiled slyly at Clarke. “So, you like my brother.”

Clarke wrinkled her nose and glared up at Octavia, attempting to deny the yes dangling on the tip of her tongue. “No!” she said instead, sitting up and stretching her shoulders. Octavia raised her eyebrows, and Clarke rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’s hot, and smart, and he has really nice hands --”

Octavia nearly dropped the plate she was holding. “Clarke, no --”

But Clarke was already continuing. “God, O, his hands. And he has really big feet, too. Do you believe that myth? You know, that guys with big hands and feet have --”

“Oh my god, oh my god, shut up!” Octavia shouted, throwing her hands up in the air and marching away from the counter.

Laughing, Clarke slid off the stool and made her way to her bedroom. “Goodnight!” she called over her shoulder.

“Good hands. UGH!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Bellamy, the giant nerd, proves he is indeed a loser with a giant crush on a girl he just met. Will Clarke take matters into her own hands??? How will this work out at school??? What will Octavia think??? Chapter three holds the answers... 
> 
> as per usual, thanks for staying! kudos are high-fives, comments are hugs, reviews and specific feedback earns you my eternal love. come find me at smolmontygreen on tumblr!!


	3. And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy gets conned by a couple of teenage girls and makes a fool of himself, much to Clarke's enjoyment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is super late and I am so, so, sorry, but I'm in three AP classes and life is hard right now. I hoped to have chapter four done before I posted this, but that's not gonna happen,s o it might be a long wait for the end of this story and I'm really sorry. (Title from Colors by Halsey)

Another week and a half passed before he saw her again.

It felt pathetic, waiting around to run into her like some overgrown puppy, but Octavia would have given him hell for dropping by the apartment without any warning, and he had very little reason to go traipsing down to the art department in the middle of the school day. It was Gabby, eventually, who tipped the scale.

“... I dunno,” he heard her say as she sat down next to her friend Jason, “She’s been weird all week.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “She was fine last period.”

“Oh come on,” Ava joined in, leaning her elbows  on her desk, “She’s been all smiley and distracted. You _have_ to know what that means.” 

Jason shook his head, looking hopelessly confused,but Bellamy smiled knowingly to himself, remembering all the teen movies Octavia used to put him through.

The bell rang, and Bellamy stood, keeping his eyes on the chatty group in the back. “Alright, guys, chapter five notes out, and this is the last day I’m accepting them.”

Ava and Gabby snapped to attention, mischief on both girls’ faces. Jason persisted in his confusion with whispered questions as Bellamy came around the room. He paused briefly at the back table. “It’s alright, Jason,” Bellamy said, as he checked over Ava’s notes. “You’ll understand it when you’re older.” The girls erupted into laughter again, and Jason exclaimed angrily as his teacher walked away, chuckling under his breath.

The rest of the period, Bellamy kept one eye on the clock, often letting himself trail off in the middle of a sentence, his train of thought veering off the rails and bumping into Clarke every time he glanced at the clock. He felt like one of his students, staring at an empty chair when his crush wasn’t in class. Ava and Gabby’s eyes bored into the back of his head as he wrote on the board,  their smirks growing every time he glanced at his watch.

Finally, the final bell rang, and, like every day, his class packed up faster than they ever did anything else and booked it out the door. Ava and Gabby lingered behind and crowded around his desk, laughing. “Hey, listen, Mr. Blake,” Gabby said, waving a giggling Ava behind her. “Miss Griffin needs a supervisor at the Art Club meeting today -- something about turpentine and district policy -- and anyway -- Ava, shhh -- we _totally_ forgot to ask _any_  of our other teachers and it would be a _huge_ favor to Miss Griffin…”

Her smile flashed through his mind an instant before the words fell out of his mouth. “If it’s a favor for Clarke -- Miss Griffin, then of course,” he said, hating the warmth rising in in his face as the girls pushed each other out the door.

“See you in the C-Wing, Mr. Blake! 2:30, okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

*****

The concern started when Gabby and Ava stumbled into the art room, laughing. Clarke was already in her painting clothes -- a gray, oversized t-shirt that fit awkwardly, bunching around her hips and loose everywhere else, and a pair of boyfriend jeans covered in paint, with holes in the knees. The club worked on the large, flat wall near the drama room every day, and she found it freeing, to be able to paint and bond with passionate students after long days dealing with kids out for easy As and ignorant basketball players filling their Fine Arts requirements. The forest mural helped with all the chaos in her life, let her focus solely on dark green shading and golden light and gray shadows.

That day, though, it wasn’t working. She stared into the shadows and saw dark eyes, traced her fingers over curling branches and imagined them as soft, silky strands between her fingers, gazed at  the yellow light of her painted sun, and thought only of its similarity to tanned, roughened skin. Her fingers paused over the amber color in a scarred tree trunk, remembering the way the lamplight hit Bellamy’s eyes the night of the party, how they turned to liquid gold for an instant before he turned away again. Her palette was coated in greens and blues and whites, in preparation for the blank stream in the corner of the picture, but her hands itched for the paints still hidden in the cabinet, for the browns and golds and blacks she would fit together to form his strong face on a waiting canvas.

Gabby and Ava worked further down the wall with another girl and two boys, detailing a shedding deciduous with vibrant oranges and yellows, sneaking glances at their teacher every so often and ducking away with hysterical giggles. Clarke pinched the end of the paint brush between her teeth, trying to see the flowing brook instead of twisted curls and crooked smiles, but Bellamy invaded her thoughts and dominated her mind, so much so that she almost ignored the apparition that appeared at her shoulder a few minutes later.

“Uh --” he said eloquently, jarring her abruptly from her thoughts. Clarke jerked backward, her brush making an ugly streak of blue across the brown forest floor. Bellamy pulled back as well, startled, a smile growing across his face. “Sorry, Miss Griffin, did I startle you?”

Clarke smiled in return and slapped his arm. “Yes! God, don’t do that!” Her hand lingered slightly on his bicep when she noticed what he was wearing. He’d changed out of his button down and slacks in favor of a black t-shirt that molded perfectly to his arms -- not that she was looking or anything -- and a pair of old jeans.

Bellamy looked down at her hand and smirked as she pulled it away. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, enjoying the blush that crept up her neck. “I had to go home and grab a change of clothes.”

“Uh --” Stammering, Clarke couldn’t pull her eyes from her feet. “It’s fine,” she managed to get out, “I wasn’t expecting you. What are you… why...?” she finished weakly.

Bellamy gestured to the two girls working farther down the hallway. “Gabby and Ava said you needed another supervisor…” he said, comprehension dawning over his features. He sighed and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

Clarke sighed as well. “That they did,” she said, and then, under her breath, “Meddling kids.”

Bellamy chuckled, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And their dumb dog, too,” he added quietly.

Clarke laughed. It was hard not to admire her, let his eyes trail down the line of her neck, catch on the small mole just above her cupid’s bow-mouth, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly on a point just left of her head. Work crushes were one thing, but any time he stood close to her, he felt like he was on the edge of something -- whether miraculously good or horrifically bad, he had yet to determine. “I appreciated the joke," she said, her eyes watering a little, "but you just leaned against wet paint.”

Bellamy spent three hours (after he wiped the paint off his arm and helped Clarke fix the portion of the mural he smudged) with the art club, being the “adult supervision” when they pulled out the turpentine to clean off the old paint further down the hall. Clarke put him to work painting the base coat for the section they cleaned with the two boys, AJ and Jonathan. By the end, Bellamy had an immense amount of respect for Clarke, both as an artist and as a teacher.  

“How do you deal with them all day?” he asked, as they stacked paint in the cupboards.

“What?” Clarke asked, “the kids?” He watched her as she considered her answer, wavy blond hair escaping her ponytail, paint caked in her cuticles, blue eyes alight and sparkling. She turned her head to look him dead in the eye, her voice clear and strong. “They’re not so bad,” she said, with a tilt of her head. His stomach dropped to his feet as she smiled at him. “AJ can be a bit of a handful…”

“Oh my god!” he jumped in, trying to ignore the feeling rising in his throat. The longer he watched her, the odder he felt, like something inside him was expanding, feelings colliding and combining into things he didn’t have words for. “He never shuts up!” He tore his gaze away from hers, putting another brush into the appropriate cup.

“He’s sixteen!” she laughed. The sound hit Bellamy square in the chest, shaking loose butterflies he didn’t know he still laid dormant. He used to think that feeling faded as you got older, that heart-skipping, stomach-jumping crushes died out with acne and braces and bad glasses, but one look at this girl shot that belief to hell.

“He’s annoying!” Bellamy protested, at a lack for anything else to say. Her mere proximity set every nerve on edge, his skin prickling as she leaned over to slide a bottle of paint to the back of the shelf.

“Like none of your students are annoying.” Clarke shot back, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He’d taken out his contacts in exchange for clunky black glasses, ones that would have been considered nerdy a decade ago but were now probably the height of high-school fashion. (Knowing what she did of Bellamy, he had probably had them since they were unpopular.) Her eyes glued to his mouth as it twisted into a wry smile, noting the small scar on his upper lip, the dimple in his chin. He really _was_ handsome.

“Fair point,” he said. Clarke stepped between him and the cabinet, reaching for the edge of the door to close it, and for a split second, she was impossibly close, just like that night at her and Octavia’s apartment. He could just barely smell her rose perfume underneath the scent of paint. He stepped back abruptly, not noticing the smirk on her face. Stepping around him with a sly smile, she grabbed the folded drop cloths from one of the desks and opened the cabinet above the sink. Leaning against one of the desks, he opened his mouth to speak. “Listen --” Bellamy started, but his mouth went dry as she popped up onto her toes, attempting to fit the cloths on the top shelf, and her shirt rode up on her hips, revealing a sliver of skin and the hint of the dimples at the bottom of her spine.

“Yeah?” she prompted him, closing the cabinet and turning, successful in her task. Her teasing grin was impossibly large as she dusted her hands off on her jeans and slipped them into her back pockets.

He shook himself a little, regaining what little composure he still possessed. The words rose up in his throat, begging to be said as Clarke’s smile kicked his heart into overdrive.“I was wondering if -- if you maybe wanted to --”

“Miss Griffin?”AJ poked his head in the door, and Bellamy did his best not to groan aloud.

“Not now,” she said, one eyebrow pushing upwards as her eyes stayed fixed on Bellamy. The challenge floated from her closed lips and hung above his head.

AJ stayed in the doorway, confused. “but --” he said, glancing between his teachers as they stared at each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Andrew.” Clarke said, gentle force in her voice. Bellamy raised his eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth twitched in response. AJ fumbled over a goodbye and a request to see her the next morning, and, at her assent, shut the door. Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. “I believe you were about to ask me out?” she said, hating the breathlessness in her voice.

Her words knocked loose a few more butterflies, and he struggled to keep his voice level. “Oh, that’s where you thought this was going, did you?” he said, one side of his mouth tugging higher than the other. He crossed the short distance between them, and, though her face barely shifted, her eyes darkened the slightest shade as he towered over her. He gave the smallest of shrugs, as if to say _oh, is that the way this is going to be_?

“Was I wrong?” she replied, the smallest catch in her casual words. He followed the motion of her tongue as it flicked out to wet her lips, his arms straining against each other as he resisted reaching out and pulling her against him. Clarke noticed the restrained emotion in his features, hoping it wasn’t mirrored on her own face. _That’s right_ , she thought victoriously, _work for it._

Bellamy held her gaze for a moment more before stepping away with another smirk. “I’ll see you Saturday night?” Finally, _finally_ , a genuine smile broke across her face for the barest of seconds, and the elated feeling in his chest surprised him. First butterflies, then this? He was acting like one of his students.

“7:00 sharp.” she said, turning away and walking back to her desk, her ratty chucks slapping loudly against the dirty linoleum. He watched her pick up her bags, noting the smudge of sky blue paint across her left cheek -- the same color as her eyes.

He paused in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as Clarke shuffled around her classroom, collecting her things. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he forced himself to think. Being around this woman, this spectacularly beautiful woman, intelligent and sarcastic and compassionate, felt like standing at the edge of a great unknown, either catastrophe or paradise on the other side.  Still -- there was something about her smile. Turning around again, he met her curious gaze with a smirk. “I’ll be there.”

Clarke’s grin cracked her face in two for a split second before she tamed it, exuberance still shining in her eyes. “Good,” she said, scribbling something on a post-it note. Swinging her messenger bag over her head, she crossed the distance between them quickly and slapped it against his chest as she walked past him and out the door. Bellamy hated his heart for jumping at her touch, and looked down at the neon pink paper stuck to his shirt. Across it, she’d scrawled ten numbers and a smiley face.

When he got home, he spent a good ten minutes debating what text to start with before eventually just sending her a turtle emoji and then putting his phone facedown on the couch next to him, actively ignoring it while he watched six episodes of NCIS. The buzz of it against the couch jerked him out of his haze, and he stared it for a solid thirty seconds before picking it up.

Clarke Griffin now

**pls do not tell me u hold conversations entirely in emojis**

Me now

_Please don’t tell me you text like my sister._

Clarke Griffin now

**oh my god u text with correct punctuation i shouldve seen this coming**

Me now

_What has Octavia done to your grammar? This is a travesty._

Clarke Griffin now

**Excuse you! I can actually text like an adult. It just takes way more effort.**

Clarke Griffin now

**(see i just used capitalization and it took three times as long to type that as it shouldve)**

Me now

_How can you be so lazy with a touchscreen phone?_

Clarke Griffin now

**Im the queen of efficiency**

Me now

_Says the girl who has a mountain of papers on her desk and a pile of canvases in the corner of her apartment_

Clarke Griffin now

**Ok so like the princess of efficiency. Queen in training.**

Me now

_Whatever you say, Princess._

In her own apartment, Clarke smiled at her phone, wrapped up in a quilt on her couch. She felt a little stupid like this, all smiley over a boy -- she hadn’t been like this since high school, when she dated Michael Brennan for the eternity of three months her junior year. She’d had relationships, of course. She’d dated Finn her freshman year of college, and then Lexa when she was getting her teaching certification in San Diego, but no one had made her feel quite like Bellamy did. It wasn’t just the fluttering in her stomach whenever he smiled at her, or the heat in her face whenever he said her name -- it was the warmth that rose in her chest when he leaned close, the terrifying way she couldn’t imagine her future in this city without him, the odd swell of fondness that came with the mention of his name.

Me now

**Damn straight im a princess. U better do what I say.**

Bellamy Blake now

 _I mean if you’re into that_.

Me now

**Dont u think you oughta buy me dinner first?**

Bellamy Blake now

_I was thinking something a little more fun, actually._

Me now

**I keep telling u, blake. Dinner first.**

Bellamy Blake now

_Oh god, no -- I meant Saturday night. I just wanted to know what you wanted to do._

Me now

**U know for someone who prides himself on his grammar u should really now that god is supposed to be capitalized**

Bellamy Blake now

_You choose the oddest things to focus on._

Me now

**Oh right. Date. Flirting. Saturday?**

Bellamy Blake now

_How do you feel about bowling?_

Me now

**Bowling?**

Bellamy Blake now

_Bowling._

Me now.

**Sounds smashing.**

Bellamy Blake now

_I swear to God, Clarke._

Me now

**Oh NOW he capitalizes it.**

The slam of Octavia’s gym bag on the floor announced her arrival home, and Clarke locked her phone and dropped it quickly into her lap. “So listen,” Octavia said, toeing off her sneakers and tying her tangled, sweaty hair into a ponytail. “I was thinking -- I still haven’t taken you to Grounders yet, which is a fuckin’ tragedy in itself --” she paused to peel her tank top off and chuck it into the armchair. Octavia managed a climbing gym downtown, and almost always worked out after work, so she regularly stripped off a majority of her clothing on her way into the apartment. Clarke was mostly used to it. “but I know Friday nights are usually like ‘decompression time’ for you, and I have been craving pizza, so we can go tomorrow night if you want?”

She padded into the kitchen and grabbed a Gatorade out of the fridge, took a swig, and then looked to Clarke for her answer. “Um, no, sorry.” Clarke said, “I’ve already got plans.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “With who?”

Clarke swallowed, her grip tightening on her phone. “Um, just a guy.”

The smirk on Octavia’s face reminded Clarke painfully of Bellamy’s. “It’s my brother, isn’t it?” she asked, placing one hand on her hip.

Clarke’s phone chimed in her lap, and she used the excuse to look away from Octavia’s fiercely intimidating gaze.

Bellamy Blake now

_You know you only technically capitalize it when you’re talking about one specific god. Like not Zeus, but the Big Guy in the White Robe in the Sky_

Me now

**Which is the one u were talking about so like**

Me now

**Im still right**

Bellamy Blake now

_You’re impossible._

Me now

**Impossibly cute**

Bellamy Blake

_Well, that too._

Attempting to hide her smile, Clarke tucked her chin into the collar of her sweater, a blush creeping up the back of her neck. “Please do not tell me you’re texting him right now,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes and bringing her gatorade back to the living room. She sat down with a ‘whumph’ in the armchair and smiled mischievously at her roommate. “You totally are, aren’t you.”

Me now

**Ur sister is demanding to know who im texting**

Bellamy Blake now

_Tell her I’m your incredibly hot personal trainer._

Me now

**I guess. Its not technically lying.**

Bellamy Blake now

_Technically?_

Me now

**I mean u r incredibly hot**

Bellamy Blake now

_You’re not so bad yourself, princess._

“Clarke please don’t tell me you’re smiling like that because of my brother,” Octavia said, glancing at her friend reproachfully, “I might actually have to throw up.”

“We’re telling each other how cute we are,” Clarke replied, and hated the flush creeping up the back of her neck. She felt a little bit like an eighth grader with a first crush, whose friends have just found out and are teasing her to no end. In fact, despite the 10-year age difference, that’s exactly what this was like.

“Gag me with a spoon.” Octavia groaned, and reached for the remote.

After watching three and a half more episodes of the West Wing -- apparently it had been an integral part of Octavia’s childhood and she was horrified Clarke had never seen it -- the pizza showed up at the door and the two women bickered about who had to get up and pay for it. Clarke lost the two-out-of-three rock-paper-scissors and hauled herself off the cushions with a groan. “You should know, by the way,” Octavia said offhandedly as Clarke sat down and slid the box on the coffee table, “that if you break his heart I’ll break your neck.”

Clarke was quiet for a moment before she handed Octavia a piece of pizza. “I have no doubt that you’d be capable of that,” she agreed. Josh and Toby argued for a few seconds on the tv before Clarke added quietly; “You should know, by the way, that I have no intention of hurting him. Bellamy’s amazing. I just hope I don’t screw this up.

  
The response came after a beat of impressed silence. “Well damn,” Octavia whispered. “I guess I’ll have to threaten my brother, too.” Clarke only laughed and took a pull of her beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, as it turns out, Bellamy is less of a coward then originally thought. How will the date go??? Will either of our awkward high-school teachers crash and burn??? Will the rest of their friends butt in and ruin everything??? Stay tuned!!
> 
> Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for sticking with me! Kudos are high-fives, Comments are hugs, and Reviews are eternal confessions of love. I really, really appreciate every single piece of feedback I get, so I'd love to hear your opinions!! Don't want to comment? Send me a message at smolmontygreen on tumblr!!


	4. you saw me start to believe for the first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes Clarke bowling, and realizes a few things about her and himself along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Title from Mine by Taylor Swift) I have been gone for so long and I am so sorry!! I had basically 90% of this chapter written and then I hit a major block. That, you know, lasted for like ten months. So sorry about that. But WE'RE BACK! Enjoy!!! (This is all un-beta'ed; all errors are mine)

“So where are you taking her?”  Jasper asked, his fingers flying over the controller as he maneuvered a first-person shooter through an ominous-looking labyrinth. He had an uncanny ability to hold conversations without looking away from his video games.

Bellamy opened his mouth to answer, but Monty held up a hand to shush him. “Whatever is about to come out of your mouth,” he said from the couch, “please do not let it be ‘Chuck E. Cheese.’ ”

“Why would I --” Bellamy started, but Jasper cut him off.\

“What’s wrong with Chuck E. Cheese?” He asked indignantly, very narrowly avoiding a pixelated grenade. Inane arguments like this were not uncommon when living with the king-geek Wonder Twins, and Bellamy often gave up before they even tried to involve him. 

“Jas, please do not tell me you took Maya to Chuck E. Cheese,” Monty sighed. (He barely had a right to be exasperated -- he’d taken a guy to the Lego Movie his senior year of college. Jasper still wouldn’t let him live it down. )

Bellamy chuckled at his reflection in the hall mirror at Jasper’s offended gasp. “They have air hockey!” 

Monty tilted his head onto the back of the couch and looked at Bellamy, baffled. “How is it that he is in a relationship but not me?” This was a question Bellamy had asked himself many, many times.

Jasper scoffed. “Because I, unlike you, am not a coward.” Bellamy inched toward the door, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed in his attempt to escape.

“You asked her out via post it note on her computer monitor!” Monty cried, throwing popcorn at the back of Jasper’s head. All three of them worked at some internet startup in downtown Seattle, something to do with sustainable home-farming. How a bunch of pacific northwestern hipsters living in brick and hardwood lofts and spending all day at computers knew about home farming, Bellamy had no idea, but Jasper and Monty were putting their freakish computer skills to good use, and paying most of the rent, so Bellamy wasn’t complaining. 

Jasper paused his game and twisted around to shout at his best friend. “At least I can  _ speak _ to her, Mr. ‘Pining-But-At-Least-We’re-Friends’!” 

Bellamy finished messing with his untameable hair and grabbed his leather jacket off the rack as Monty argued back. “I am  _ not  _ pining for Miller!” 

“Hey wait, he’s leav--” The door cuts Jasper off in the middle of his sentence. Letting out a sigh of relief, Bellamy dropped his head against the door and shut his eyes. Monty and Jasper arguing had rid his head of the nerves that had come with setting out for his date with Clarke, but now he felt like that fifteen-year-old boy he’d thought he’d left behind. 

Octavia opens the door, and, for an instant, it feels like any other day, like he’s going to eat dinner with his baby sister, but then she hollers over her shoulder and Clarke appears behind her, and suddenly, his heart is in his throat again. He told her nothing fancy, so she’s dressed casually, black jeans and a royal blue blouse, but she’s smiling at him, and her hair is brushed out over her shoulders and shining under the light, and he must have looked like a love-struck dumbass because Octavia started to laugh before Clarke elbowed her in the ribs. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice embarrassingly soft as he stared at her. 

“Hi,” she replied, just as softly. He didn’t miss the way her eyes trailed over him, lingering on his chest under his gray henley. 

“You look great,” he said, verbally returning her unspoken compliment.

“Thank you.” She smiled again, and his heart skipped in response. He’d been around beautiful women before, but none of them were quite like Clarke. All she had to do was flash her sky-blue eyes at him and he melted. It felt a little dangerous, honestly, giving up this much to a girl he met barely a month ago, but when she looked at him like that, all beaming and proud, time didn’t really seem to matter much. 

“So, uh, you ready?” He asked, shaking himself out of his daze. 

“Yeah, yeah totally,” Clarke said, reaching for the black blazer hanging over the back of a kitchen chair. Bellamy tried, really, really hard not to stare while she shrugged it on, and failed miserably, judging by Octavia’s teasing smile. 

“Have fun,” Octavia sang, settling down into the couch. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Bellamy opened his mouth to say something along the lines of “please do  not embarrass me in front of this gorgeous woman you annoying little cretin,” but Clarke just flicked the back of his sister’s head as she walked past her and out the door, and he figured that was enough.  

He followed her out the door, laughed when she paused on the sidewalk, and, heart in his throat, slipped his hand into hers. “Bowling alley’s only a few blocks from here,” he said, leaning down to speak into her ear. She shivered at his proximity, and he couldn’t help the smirk that settled on his face. “I figured we’d walk.” 

Wrapping her free hand around his elbow, she leaned into his side, smiling at her shoes -- blue chucks with gray laces and doodles of trees on the rubber toes. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” she asked, even though he could feel her warmth through the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Bellamy wrapped his other hand around the one on his arm and smiled down at her. “Good thing I’m here to keep you warm, then,” he said. Clarke tucked her grin against his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her hand, biting back a smile of his own. They walked a few more blocks tucked together like that, until the neon sign of Walden Lanes came into view. 

“Bellamy Blake, you nerd,” Clarke chuckled as he pushed the door open for her. 

“What?” he asked, missing her hand even as she pulled away from him. 

“You brought me to a bowling alley named after the retreat of one of the most famous transcendentalists of all time,” she said as they stepped into the noisy building, the scent of fried food hanging heavy in the air.

“At least I don’t own the place,” he shot back, even as she propped her chin on his shoulder.

Clarke’s sigh ruffled the curls on the back of Bellamy’s neck. “Something tells me you know who does, though.” 

“My old buddy from high school -- Miller, you met him at the party -- his dad owns this place.” Bellamy replied, trying to ignore the tingles racing up his spine at her nearness.

“Yeah?” 

“He was also our old high school English teacher,” he admitted, “Set this place up while Miller and I were in college. It’s one hell of a way to retire.”

“I have a feeling you’re about to kick my ass,” Clarke chuckled, squeezing his hand. Bellamy only shrugged in response.

As they neared the front of the line, the older African-American man behind the counter seemed to recognize Bellamy, and he raised a calloused hand in greeting. “Hey, Bellamy!” He waved them in front of the other customers, and Clarke avoided eye contact with the very angry-looking middle-aged mother that they stepped in front of.

“Mr. Miller! I didn’t know you still worked the counter.” Bellamy said cheerfully, releasing Clarke’s hand to shake Mr. Miller’s. 

“How many times, Bellamy. Call me David.”

“One more, sir, just like always.” David chuckled and shook his head as Bellamy went on. “Anyway, I thought you went home, stuck to the books?”

“Anything to get me out of the house, these days,” the older man explained. “You want your usual ball and shoes?” 

Clarke looked up at him, surprise lighting up her features. He pretended not to notice. “Please. And some for my… uh --”  he glanced down at her, cleared his throat, and went on. “Clarke.” glancing between the both of them, Clarke slightly shocked and turning pink, David with one raised eyebrow and an amused smirk, Bellamy felt the flush creeping over his face. “I’ll go get us a lane,” he said hurriedly, and darted away.

“So you’re his, are you?” David asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. Clarke let her eyes follow Bellamy’s silhouette as he slung his jacket over a chair and leaned down to slip off his shoes. There was no doubt he was handsome, that much was obvious, but Clarke also saw something else in the slope of his broad shoulders and the swell of his arms, the strong planes of his face and the warm brown of his eyes, something that looked like safety and protection and, frighteningly, a little like her future. 

“I guess I am,” she responded quietly. 

Bellamy reached for the empty table before realizing Clarke was at the counter getting their shoes. He glanced up, catching her eyes as she stared at him. One side of his mouth tugged upwards as he waved a little, and Clarke smiled in response. David rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, pushing the leather bag across the counter. It’s blue, battered, scuffed and well-loved, and faded stitching spelled out initials on the front. Squinting at the pilling cursive writing, Clarke smiled when she recognized the letters. “B. B? I’m guessing this is Bellamy’s?” she asked, looking up at David. 

The older man smiled sadly, scratching the back of his mostly bald head. “Yep. He’s had it since he was a kid. Aurora brought him in one summer so many times, I pretended it was a member benefit. You know, I still think he believes it.” 

Clarke chuckled and leaned her elbows on the counter. “You conned him into getting a bowling bag?” 

“Well, the membership for the youth team came with it. Honestly, I think he wanted the t-shirt more than anything,” David chuckled, slapping down a pair of shoes next to the bag. “Now you go try not to get beat too bad.” 

Clarke laughed and took both bag and shoes. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” she said, walking toward the lane that Bellamy had staked out. He stood awkwardly on the colorful linoleum floor, hands shoved in his pockets, wiggling his toes in his red socks. She dropped the bag on the table and watched his face turn the same color as his feet. 

“He still has that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck as Clarke grinned up at him. 

“He told me you’ve had it since you were little.”

“God,” Bellamy growled, sweet embarrassment under his brusque tone, “This is like the equivalent of baby pictures.” He attempted to brush past her to pull his shoes and ball out of the bag, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Wait,” she said, a smirk settling on her lips. “There are baby pictures?” Panicked, Bellamy’s eyes darted towards the wall next to the arcade, where picture frames of teams past lined the walls, and Clarke’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god,” she said, a laugh rising in her voice, “there are baby pictures.” 

She tugged on his arm, headed for the wall, but Bellamy resolutely stayed put. “C’mon!” he sputtered, “You’re just stalling, now!” 

“What?” Clarke asked, indignant, “You think I’m scared?” 

“I think you’re scared I’m gonna win,” he said, very aware of the shit-eating grin plastering itself across his face as her eyes started to sparkle with intelligent mischief.

“I think you’re full of shit,” she replied challengingly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Why don’t you come over here and prove me wrong?” 

She didn’t prove him wrong. In fact, she proved him very, very right. The first game, he went easy on her, mostly bowling spares and throwing a few strikes as most of her throws hit the gutter. The second game, she demanded he ‘stop being so fucking  _ nice _ ’ punctuated with a few slaps to his arm, so he stepped up, threw almost all strikes while she sat behind him, arms crossed, an odd expression of combined annoyance and admiration twisting her mouth. 

“Do you ever get  _ bored _ ?” she asked as he bowled his last frame.

Predictably, the dark blue ball knocked over all ten pins, and he allowed himself a little bit of gloating as he sauntered back to the table. “Of what?” he asked, throwing himself down into the plastic seat. 

“Of being so annoyingly perfect,” she muttered, standing up and picking up her bright red ball from the ball return. She’d picked the lightest one on the shelf. Bellamy had chosen not to comment on it.

“Oh, so you think I’m perfect, princess?” he asked as she attempted to mimic his form, very blatantly staring at her ass as she took her throw. 

She didn’t answer, instead watching the ball travel down the dead center of the lane. It hit the center pin, and, with a satisfying crash, knocked down the other nine in a split second. They were both silent with the shock of it for a moment before Clarke launched herself in the air. “HA! TAKE THAT!” she yelled, pumping her fist. Bellamy stood up, laughing, as Clarke rocketed towards him.  “I DID IT!” she cried, launching herself at him and locking her arms around his neck. The force nearly knocked him over, but he caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. She laughed into his shoulder as he spun her around once, his face buried in her hair.

“You did it!” he agreed, setting her back down. Neither of them let go, her hands lingering at his shoulders, his still warm on her waist. She beamed up at him, blue eyes shining. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her lips, and the rest of the world seemed to melt away into the smell of her rose perfume. 

Clarke moved first and lifted herself up onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips gently, hesitantly, to his. Bellamy was frozen for a second before he wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling her flush against him, and she leaned into his kiss. He wanted to stay wrapped up in her forever, her fingers buried in his hair, her warmth pressed up against his chest.

Remembering they were standing in the middle of a populated bowling alley, he pulled back, pushing his forehead against hers. “You know,” he said, Clarke’s breath hitching at the gravelly whisper of his voice, “I’d really love to continue this somewhere else.”

“Mmm,” Clarke hummed with a small smile, her fingers sliding down the side of his neck and over his shoulders. “But Octavia,” she said, disappointed, dropping down on her heels. “You?”

“Monty and Jasper,” he hissed. She bit her lip, and Bellamy had to resist the urge to kiss her again. “I’m sorry.” 

“Maybe next time?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully through her eyelashes. 

“So there’s gonna be a next time?” he replied, ducking his head down to kiss her again. 

“If you’re lucky,” she said, smiling against his lips. Bellamy kissed the smirk away, relishing her soft sound of surprise. Clarke fit like a puzzle piece against him, their lips interlocking perfectly as his hands slipped into the soft curves at her waist before sliding around and bracing against the small of her back. 

She pulled away too soon. “We should -- uh-- public,” she whispered, her fingers clenched in the collar of his black t-shirt.

He swallowed thickly, reluctant to let go. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice haggard. She slipped out of his grasp and went back to the table, slipping out of her shoes. Bellamy stared at his feet, encased in the ragged blue-and-grey bowling shoes. He’d never brought a girl here before. David always asked him why, and Bellamy had claimed it was too personal, like showing a part of himself he’d always worked to stay hidden, but -- he’d brought Clarke here without a second thought. And she fit -- fit under the bright lights and the heavy smell of fried food, under his arm and David’s fatherly gaze, against him when she’d leaned up and brushed her lips to his. It was terrifying, how she slotted so perfectly into his life without question or a second thought, but then she nearly fell over trying to lace her shoes and then looked up at him, laughing, and something unraveled in his chest. 

As Clarke adjusted her jacket and huffed her bangs out of her face, Bellamy felt a rush of warmth wash over him. Something about her felt like forever. “Are we going?” she asked, smirking as she caught him staring.

“Uh,” Bellamy coughed, “Yeah.” Stumbling over himself, he packed up his stuff and followed her out, leaving the bag on the counter next to David with a grateful nod. The older man winked, laughing as Bellamy ducked his head and hurried out the door behind Clarke. She slipped her hand into his without hesitation, her fingers lacing through his. 

“Thanks for this,” Clarke said, breaking the delicate silence. 

“Of course,” Bellamy replied automatically. 

“It’s just --” she explained, “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.” 

He glanced down at her, trying to gauge her facial expression, but she watched their feet as they walked, wavy blonde hair a wall between them. Bellamy afforded himself a small smile as he squeezed her fingers and she tightened her grip, reassuring. 

They talked a little as they strolled through the night; simple things like their students and schedules and district policies they hated complying to. Eventually, she fit herself against her side and threaded an arm under his jacket, his hand tight around her shoulder. Too soon, they were outside her door. 

“I’ll see you Monday?” he asked, loosening his hold in case she wanted to let go. 

She didn’t; instead, she turned to face him, sliding her other hand underneath his jacket and linking her fingers behind his back. “Monday,” she agreed, leaning up on her tiptoes and brushing her nose against his. He smiled into the kiss, one hand at her waist, the other angling her towards him on the side of her neck. Again, he marveled at how she fit so neatly against him, how easily she melted in his grip, soft and comfortable and perfect. 

In contrast, the door swinging open was like a cannon blast in the empty hallway. The pair leapt apart, Bellamy shoving his hands in his pockets, Clarke wrapping one around her middle, the other hand flying to her face to attempt to fix her smudged lip gloss. Octavia stood in the doorway, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “So,” she drawled, her grin edging on feral. “How did things go?” 

Both of them looked up, glaring indignantly. Clarke opened her mouth to speak, But Octavia held up a hand. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t start. We don’t have time.” 

“What are you -- ?” Bellamy tried, but Octavia just kept trucking. 

“We’re going out.” She said, more of a demand than a request. They both took a moment to take in her sequined dress, the black eyeliner making her clear green eyes go from inquisitive to cunning and predatory. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” Clarke protested, no doubt thinking the mountain of grading Bellamy knew they had both put off for Sunday. 

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re such a schoolmarm,” she said dismissively, waltzing back into the apartment and gesturing for her to follow. 

“Um, yes?” Clarke said under her breath, reluctantly following, grabbing for Bellamy’s hand to ensure he trailed behind. Octavia was a whirlwind of activity, in and out of the two rooms, dumping a dark blue something on the couch, a clear makeup case spilled across the kitchen table, a pair of stilettos thumping to the floor next to Clarke’s shoes. She cast a desperate look at Bellamy, but all he could do was shrug as Octavia snatched up the clothes from the couch and dragged Clarke into her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... if you can tell where I stopped in January and where I picked up in October... at least it means my writing style has improved. (hopefully) As per usual, thanks for staying! Kudos are high-fives, comments are hugs, reviews are confessions of undying love. Any feedback is good feedback. Don't want to comment? Send me a message at smolmontygreen on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> (First chapter title from Work Song by Hozier) 
> 
> And so the awkward nerds meet and begin their inept flirting! Who could the mysterious 'C' be??? How will Bellamy react when he finds out??? Will I continue using an excess of question marks??? check back next Monday for more!!! (The first two chapters are pretty short, but they get a lot longer as it goes on, I promise.)
> 
> Thoughts/feedback MUCH appreciated! I love kudos, I LIVE for comments. Any ideas, criticism, or singling out of particular good/funny/awkward moments would be welcome. Come find me at smolmontygreen on tumblr!


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